


The Sweet Hereafter

by oneiriad



Category: Supernatural, Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Gen, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 07:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6364255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneiriad/pseuds/oneiriad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What comes after Purgatory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweet Hereafter

**Author's Note:**

> Written for rilromen, who asked for a 3 sentence crossover fic between Vikings and Supernatural. It - didn't quite stay three sentences.

Benny’s on his feet moments after he wakes, crouching defensively and turning to take in his surroundings. He remembers Purgatory, remembers the feel and smells of it and the pain of claws and fangs, screaming while being torn apart for one final time.

This world smells like blood.

Above him in the darkling sky northern lights dance like demented angels. In front of him something winged and smelling like death is walking away from him, and he can’t help the feeling of relief at the sight of it leaving. Behind him are three corpses, one a near-giant, one short and with an eye-patch and one with just one arm - all three of them dressed like they’d fit right in with those larpers Dean once told him about.

But they are corpses, he can smell it, can see it - broken bones and impossible angles - and corpses are safe to turn your back on as he studies this place, the plain stretching out in front of him and the strangely gleaming building taking up half the horizon.

He turns to find that one of the corpses has sat up.

Benny leaps backwards, baring his teeth and inwardly cursing his lack of weapons, belatedly noticing the axes and swords lying by the corpses that are now all three stirring, stretching and wiping blood and brain matter off their faces.

The one-eyed one looks quizically up at him, reminding Benny of a raven. When the corpse - the man - speaks he doesn’t understand a word of it.

“I don’t understand,” he says and earns confused looks. He tries French, Spanish - nothing makes the confusion go away, but at least the men don’t seem hostile.

Curious, mind you - one of them steps forward to pick at his shirt, saying something that’s obviously a question. The one-armed one picks his hat off his head - didn’t one of the vampires tear tear that off his head? - and tries it on himself, making the tall guy bark with laughter.

Eventually, the men apparently decide it’s time to move along and Benny doesn’t protest as an arm is slung around his shoulders to drag him along - this place is too exposed for his liking anyway.

As they walk towards the huge building in the distance, growing vaster with every step they take, he points at it, asking: “What is that place?”, hoping that he’ll be understood despite the language difficulties.

The one-eyed man looks where Benny’s pointing, then says a string of words that seems to be an answer. Benny only manages to catch one of the words.

Valhalla.

Oh.


End file.
